


OTP Challenge Day 2: Snowball Fight

by rhapsodyvintage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Snow, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhapsodyvintage/pseuds/rhapsodyvintage





	OTP Challenge Day 2: Snowball Fight

When John awoke that dark and frigid morning in December, the other side of the bed was empty. This wasn’t unusual, and neither were the squeals coming from the next room over. John groaned, rubbed his eyes and dared to look at the clock before going to Hamish’s room. 5:00am. He sighed heavily but chuckled softly. Like father, like son. 

In the nursery Hamish was oblivious to the time of morning, and was already trying to reach for the mobile above his crib and play with it, shrieking in pleasure whenever his fingers were able to grab it. “Hey, you,” John murmured. He padded across the carpet, picking up Hamish and laying a kiss in his dark curls. Hamish seemed to melt into his chest, gripping the fabric of John’s shirt in his little fist but laying his head contentedly against his shoulder. “Let’s get you some breakfast, hm?” John looked out the window before taking Hamish to the kitchen and noticed something. Snow was falling gently outside, and had blanketed all of Baker Street. John grinned widely, hugging Hamish closer. This would be his first snowfall. Maybe he would try to get Sherlock to come home from whatever he was doing and have some fun.

Two hours later, Hamish had been clothed, fed and bathed, and was now crawling at John’s feet over an opened map of London that Sherlock had, almost willingly, donated to Hamish’s entertainment. (And of course, learning.) A cup of coffee warmed John’s hands as he paused from typing at his computer, and he stopped to wonder what his flatmate was doing. As if to burst from John’s thoughts, the door to 221B opened and Sherlock strode through it. His expression was languid but far away in thought as he closed the door behind him and took off his scarf. Without speaking a word, he took off his coat and sat in the armchair across from John, his hands in typical prayer-position under his chin. Hamish looked up at him for a moment, trying to mirror his expression the best he could, before crawling over and tugging on his pants leg to be picked up. Sherlock reached down and stroked Hamish’s hair without looking for a few moments, but then drew back his hand and continued thinking. John frowned and Hamish whined.

Sherlock rose to his feet and was reaching for his coat again, carefully stepping around Hamish. “I’m going out.” As he neared the door Hamish started to cry and John warned, “Sherlock.” “What?” … Sherlock looked down at his crying son, then at John. “Bit not good?” “No, love, bit not good.” “Why can’t I go out?” Sherlock whined, sounding remarkably like Hamish did a few moments ago. 

"Because it’s snowing outside…" John looked crestfallen and embarrassed, avoiding Sherlock’s eyes and looking instead at their son. "So? I’ll be fine… Oh." Sherlock stopped, holding his scarf in his hands with his brows furrowed. "I can stay then…" 

"No, it’s fine. I understand you need your thinking time." John stood and kissed Sherlock’s cheek, turning and picking up Hamish to cradle him. Sherlock paused for a moment, and then quietly left the flat, the door closing doing nothing to cover Hamish’s cries. "Come here little one… We can have some fun too. Let’s go outside." 

Whether it was warranted or not, John was pleased to see when a thickly bundled and layered Hamish was taken into the biting afternoon air, nothing much happened besides his cheeks turning red. He knelt down beside a snow-covered bush by the door to the flat and scooped up some of the cold powder. “See, Hamish? This is snow.” Not really knowing what to say next, he watched Hamish grunt and try to grab the snow. John could hear a slight whistling sound before SMASH! His head whipped around from the impact of whatever hit him square in the temple. He looked around frantically and saw Sherlock. Across the street, with a broad and childish grin on his face. He saw John rub his temple, and his lips quirked. “Bit not good?” “Oh, you bastard,” John laughed, looking over to see that no snow had fallen on Hamish. His heart quickened in joy. Sherlock walked across the street and took Hamish from John’s arms unexpectedly, still grinning. “Get ready for a battle, John.” “Oh yeah?” 

Sherlock dashed a few feet away and guided Hamish’s hands over a handful of snow to form it into a ball, and he pointed to John. “Throw it, Hamish! Over there!” John couldn't help but to chuckle as Hamish instead chose to try to suck on the snowball, looking up innocently at Sherlock. “Yeah, a real fighter you've got there, Sherlock.” “Hrmph. I suppose I’ll have to educate him about Lao Tzu, then, instead of that Whatever Street rubbish.” “Oh, you think him trying to rebel against bedtime is bad now?" John teased, gathering another snowball. He pelted it at Sherlock’s thigh, and Hamish shrieked in delight at the look of pain on his father’s face, twisting up his own to try to imitate it. "John!" "All’s fair in love and war, Sherlock!" John’s heart absolutely melted when he saw Sherlock’s and Hamish’s black curls meld together when Sherlock put his head towards his son’s to "formulate a plan of attack."

~~~~~~~

That night, Hamish was sleeping soundly in Sherlock’s lap, and he observed silently. John had ordered some take-away and had steaming cups of tea on the table, setting them down and sitting beside his two loves. After a while, John asked, “So, was it worth it staying with us instead of working on some case?” Sherlock smirked and leaned over to give John a soft kiss. “Not quite as interesting as a murder, but almost.” John laughed and held Sherlock’s hand in his, yawning and curling up at his side.


End file.
